Heart of the Dragon
by Ugly Kitten
Summary: A one-sided love. Draco Malfoy has had his heart stolen, but the one he loves doesn't love him back. Can Malfoy possibly be human enough for his heart to contain the notion of love? DracoHermione one-shot.


Summary: A one-sided love. Draco Malfoy has had his heart stolen, but the one he loves doesn't love him back. Can Malfoy possibly be human enough for his heart to contain the notion of love? D/Hr  
  
Disclaimer: JK Rowling owns it all. I don't make no dough from it. Get it? Got it? Good.  
  
I was getting tired of always seeing Draco as the evil kid with no heart. Every human has one, even if they do not show it. Special thanks to my brother and beta reader, David.  
  
This story has already been shown on FictionAlley.Org, but I wanted to see if it would get as much feedback here. I am now a devoted Hermione/Draco shipper! I plan on extending the story later, without (SHOCK 101) a POV through an original character.  
  
Watch out for it soon!  
  
Angel Sari Neko Jeminie Indigo Productions Presents: Heart of the Dragon.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
Whose heart but my own can give me what I want? A child who grows up with everything always wants more, or at least that's what I've heard. What about love? Father certainly told me that he gave me fatherly love through discipline and skill, but that type of love is not what I want.  
  
"Mr. Malfoy," the fat toad of a woman sucked in a great gasp of air before continuing. "Potter and his friends...are up to something...Go see what it is."  
  
"Yes, Professor Umbridge," I said. "Your office, am I correct?" Potter and his friends had been talking about invading the toad's office since the toad had cast that half-giant out of school.  
  
"How did you know?" she asked, her bugging eyes going, if possible, wider. Father had gotten quite cozy with her once. That's why she made me a member of her Inquisitorial Squad. Of course, she wasn't a Death Eater like Father, but she believed Voldemort had the right idea and that's what counts. In Father's book, anyway.  
  
"A hunch," I answered coolly. I headed back toward her office at top speed, her trying to keep up.  
  
"Get the rest of the Squad together," said Umbridge as we stopped suddenly. "Anyone you see posted around this hall, nab them and bring them into my office."  
  
"Yes, Professor Umbridge," I said. In a few minutes, Crabbe, Goyle, Bulstrode, Warrington, and a few other fellow Slytherins had soon gathered in the hall. "Grab anyone in this hall. Bring them to Umbridge's office."  
  
That is when I saw her. Flyaway brown hair, curly and soft, a determined frown etched in her every feature. The little mudblood who had stolen my heart but would never know. Quickly, I ducked into the office in hopes of escaping her scathing gaze, at least for the moment.  
  
Umbridge had a death grip on Potter's messy and sooty black hair, his glasses tilted at an awkward angle. It was obvious his face had been in the fireplace, talking to someone. Possibly Dumbledore, the Muggle-loving old hermit. Looking at the Muggle-born who had stolen my heart, I didn't blame him quite as much anymore.  
  
"--foolish boy. Take his wand," Umbridge barked at me. My nose wrinkled at the thought. Nonetheless, I reached into the inner pocket of Potter's Gryffindor robes and plucked the phoenix-feather wand from it. Father knew Ollivander well enough to get information on each wand he sold.  
  
The Muggle-born tried to kick Bulstrode and only succeeded in getting the second wand-confiscation order.  
  
"Get her wand, too," the toad snarled at me. My breath hitched in my throat, but I complied, making certain that the mudblood's fingers brushed mine as I snatched her wand from her. The same wand that had done so much more than I could.  
  
I tossed Potter's wand into the air, but pocketed the mudblood's. I should be angry that a mudblood could out-hex me. The first time I saw her, however, I was smitten--mudblood or not. Miss Hermione Granger was far from being a beautiful goddess, but she had an air of passion, of confidence around her. I was surprised Weasel or Potter hadn't made a move on her yet. Probably the fact that they were friends, I think.  
  
"Got 'em all," said Warrington, shoving said Weasel into the room. "That one tried to help her, so I got him too." I was mildly surprised to see the purple-faced Neville Longbottom struggling against Crabbe's monstrous grip. I didn't know who was more stupid--the Squib-like betrayer of wizard-kind or the addle-brained numbskull of a boy who I had to hang around with. Actually, I was leaning more toward Crabbe as the stupid one.  
  
At least Longbottom understood the meaning of love.  
  
"Good, good," said Umbridge. "It seems that Hogwarts will soon be a Weasley- free zone."  
  
I laughed with the other Slytherins. What else could I do? If Father knew I had gone soft on the mudbloods...I didn't want to think about what would happen. The bushy-haired mudblood glared at me, but I couldn't stop. I couldn't.  
  
The brown eyes of the mudblood sent me spiraling into my own little dream world, where it was just she and I. Maybe we would be wed someday. Have a child who didn't have to be punished at every turn for disciplinary reasons and who knew the love of his father and his mother.  
  
"Draco." If she hadn't used my first name, I wouldn't have heard her. "Go fetch Professor Snape."  
  
The hall was still clear from the Garroting Gas idea of the Weasley girl. No one would dare come down this hall if they thought that there was an invisible gas that could kill in an instant. Professor Snape, greasy black hair, hooked nose, and all, was walking toward the office already.  
  
"Professor Umbridge needs your urgent assistance, Professor Snape," I said, falling into step beside him.  
  
"Very well," he said. "Lead the way, Malfoy."  
  
"Potter was communicating through the fire in her office, sir," I said, walking faster.  
  
"Hmm."  
  
"Sir?"  
  
"Nothing, Malfoy," said Snape. We reached the office again. The moment we entered, Umbridge began shouting about Veritaserum. I blocked the noise, staring at Hermione.  
  
Hermione...yes, that's her name. I had learned a great deal about Greek mythology. Hermione was the female version of Hermes, the Greek god of speed and good luck. He liked to give Zeus flowers occasionally, from what little I remembered. Hermione was a flower, though. She was so beautiful and smart and interesting to talk to...even though I hadn't said one nice thing to her since I met her.  
  
"No!" Hermione cried suddenly. I looked at Umbridge again. Snape had gone. "Professor, no, it's illegal! The Minister wouldn't want you to break the law, Professor!"  
  
"What Cornelius doesn't know won't hurt him," said Umbridge, panting slightly. She pointed her short wand at a different part of Potter's body, as though trying to decide what part to curse first. I would go for his forehead, personally. "He never knew I ordered the dementors after Potter..."  
  
Hermione was gasping for breath, Bulstrode smothering her against the wall, her broad back holding her there. I swallowed hard, struggling within myself. If I helped her or Potter, Father would disown me. On the other hand, Bulstrode was really hurting her. If I could just get the whale of a girl to loosen her hold just a little bit...  
  
"NO!" Hermione roared, still struggling. "No--Harry! Harry, we'll--we'll have to tell her..."  
  
"No, Hermione!" Harry yelled.  
  
"We have to...we...what...what's the point, Harry...?" Hermione began to sob quietly into the back of Bulstrode's robes. Bulstrode yanked herself away, looking distinctly ruffled and disgusted.  
  
"Well, well, well," said Umbridge, looking delighted. "Little Miss Question- All is going to give us some answers. Well, out with it, girl!"  
  
"Er--My--Nee--No!" Weasel's gag let him say only so much. The rest of them stared at her like they had never seen her quite like this before. And I was pretty sure none of them had. Hermione sobbed desperately into her hands. I noticed, however, that there was a lack of tears beneath those sobs.  
  
The clever girl was acting.  
  
"I'm--I'm sorry, everyone," Hermione sniffled. "I just...can't stand it..."  
  
She was acting. I could tell. But Umbridge was so thick she just didn't see it. My clever little mudblood. What great thing would you do? What lengths would you go to, to protect your friends? Was it really worth it to risk your own life, your own future?  
  
The love that radiated from Hermione was like no other, even as she lied through her two front teeth--which were much smaller than they had been.  
  
Hermione explained away, using what the Ministry wanted to hear--that Dumbledore was creating an army to use against Fudge. There was a weapon hidden where we couldn't find it. For an instant, I wanted that weapon so badly. If Hermione saw me blast away Voldemort, maybe she would like me instead of Scar-Head or Weasel.  
  
"Professor, I really think a few members of the squad should come with you," I said.  
  
I didn't hear her explanation for why she was leaving us here. I knew from the look in Hermione's eyes that the weapon did not exist.  
  
Umbridge was so thick, though, that she believed it. She took Hermione and Potter and told them to lead the way. I was to watch the others. Oh, sweet Hermione, if you but knew the feelings in my heart. These worlds of blood alone which separate us bother me not. I love you, Hermione, as Romeo the Montague loved Juliet the Capulet.  
  
My dreaming cost me a great deal of my dignity, though.  
  
"Get 'em!" shouted the girl Weasel at the top of her lungs. She kicked backwards and spun around. "Stupefy! Stupefy! Stupefy! STUPEFY!"  
  
Very quickly, I found myself paralyzed and on the ground, surrounded by Potter and Hermione's friends. Ron and Ginny Weasley, Neville Longbottom, and the bizarre Luna Lovegood all glared at me, their not-confiscated wands all leveled between my eyes.  
  
"You would do well to stop trying to kill Harry, Malfoy," said the girl Weasley.  
  
"Yeah, and stop staring at Hermione," the boy Weasley added. They took Hermione and Potter's wands from my pockets and left the room. The other Slytherins stared at me.  
  
Oh, Hermione. Why did the fates decide to part our lives with such wretched blood? Such is the heart and soul of a dragon, and such is the heart and soul of Draco Malfoy.  
  
***  
  
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